


Become Who We Were Before

by Erica_T



Series: Aftermath [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erica_T/pseuds/Erica_T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 3 of  'Meet Me In The Aftermath'.  The Winter Soldier has a long way to go to being James Barnes again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Become Who We Were Before

The Winter Soldier was tired of this.  It had been the same now for what felt like forever, and it wasn't any different from any of the other so called 'organizations'.  All anyone ever wanted to do was stick him in a box until he was useful to them.    
  
In this case it was two boxes.  One was his so called 'room'.  A room that had all the comforts of home, a bed, a toilet, twenty four hour room service.  Doors with locks on the outside and no sharp objects on the inside.  And when they let him out, it was to bring him to this box, where they flashed pictures at him.  A skinny kid with Captain America's face.  An American army officer with a craggy face and sneer.  A woman with a much prettier face than any that he'd seen lately.  There were others, men they said that he'd known from before he was who he was, but whose faces he didn't remember at all.    
  
The Captain would sit in a lot.  He'd talk about things that had happened, experiences that he said that they had shared, but he had no memory of them.  He couldn't decide if he liked or hated the twisted look of disappointment that would appear on his face before he'd walk out.  
  
He remembered the woman.  He had memories of being in love with her once, of being willing to do anything for her and with her.  
  
He just couldn’t remember what that had felt like.  
  
The other memories that he had of her were...unpleasant.  Dripping in red, like her hair, and he didn't enjoy them.  Neither did she, when he traipsed them out of his head for her to hear.  He couldn't figure out why she still came if she didn't like what she heard.   
  
But it was the other woman that caught his attention.  She never came in.  Every time that Captain America came down to see him, talk to him, to show him pictures of people that he didn’t recognize and couldn’t remember; she would come down and wait for him on a bench outside of the room, knitting, of all things. He didn't understand why.    
  
She was pretty, as pretty as the woman in the photo, dark haired and wide eyed.  She was short where the other woman seemed to be taller, but that was the only difference.  She seemed to know most of the people that worked in this area.    
  
She was clearly Captain America's girl, if the way that he looked at her was any indication.    
  
What interested him was that while a part of his mind was contemplating the number of ways that he could use her to his advantage if given the opportunity, another part of his mind was whispering at him that he was interested in knowing about their relationship for another reason entirely.  
  
He just couldn’t figure out what that reason was.   
  
* * *   
  
He tried asking the redheaded woman about her.    
  
"Why does she come down here?  Who is she?"   
  
"She's no one you need to be concerned with."   
  
"Then why is she concerned?"  
  
He remembered this woman's measuring look very well.  It was a look that could see deep into the soul of a man and find all of his secrets.  She was giving it to him now, but he had no secrets left to give.    
  
"She's not here for you, you must know that."    
  
"Of course I do."    
  
"Then why do you care so much?"   
  
"I...I don't know."    
  
That was the night that he dreamed.  Not nightmares of a past that will haunt him until the end of his days, but really dreamed.  He would never be able to recall exactly what it was that he dreamed about, but he felt sure that all the people whose faces they were shoving at him were a part of it.    
  
* * *   
  
The days passed.  Gradually, they allowed him more 'freedom'.   They let him exercise, by himself and with guards at all exits, but it was exercise all the same.  They let him out into the world, in an armoured car with a fully armed escort.  And her.  His lethal former paramour never seemed to be too far away. And he wished that she would be, if only so he didn't have to see her looking unlike herself.  She had another man, these days.  He had seen him, both in action and off duty.   
  
They'd had a whole file on him, as a potential threat.  Codenamed Hawkeye, he had an impressive resumé.  Off duty, he'd come down to his box a few times, sat with the Captain's girl outside and then argued with the woman in hushed tones when they thought they wouldn't be heard.     
  
Hawkeye didn't like that she came almost tirelessly to visit a former lover, even though he was trying to play the supportive boyfriend.  Of course, the Black Widow didn't have 'boyfriends', she had lovers of whom she disposed when she tired of them.  Or at least, that's what she used to do.  He wasn't sure now if she was the same Black Widow that she had been once.  In some aspects she was, but she had some softer edges now that he didn't know what to do with.    
  
One of their conversations had inexplicably stuck with him.  
  
 _"My one regret in leaving that life of mine behind, was also leaving him behind.  He was better than what they had him do for them.  I knew that then, even if I did not know the whole story.  I have always wished...not that I had stayed, but that I had been able to take him with me."_  
  
 _"And now there's a chance to do for him what we've done for you."_  
  
 _"Yes.  He deserves that.  And Steve...he deserves it too."_  
  
Steve.  He'd known a Steve once, he was sure.  A skinny kid, always getting beat up because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.  Maybe he'd had Captain America's face, he wasn't sure.  After overhearing that conversation though, he found himself really observing the man when he came in to talk to him.     
  
There were movements he made that were both familiar and alien.  He spoke in a way that he recognized, but was also completely foreign.    
  
All it did was piss him off.  So much so, that he took a swing at him, and then another, and another.  Captain America didn't so much fight back as deflect his blows, and that made him even angrier, and he was gearing up to swing at the man's face...when suddenly the dark haired girl, was in the room between them, blocking him from beating the hell out of Captain America bodily.  
  
Months ago a mere slip of a girl wouldn't have stopped him.  He might have even hit her too, she was in the way and he was angry.  But she looked at him with the fiercest eyes and she held her ground, even when the Captain tried to move her out from in front of him.  
  
"What are you doing?"  He hissed at her, and the Captain, surprised, relaxed ever so slightly behind her.  The girl's measured look gave the redhead's a run for her money.    
  
"What he won't.  He won't protect himself from you, the idiot thinks that this is all somehow his fault and he's happy to take whatever you want to dish out.  But I won't let you hurt him.  I need him in one piece, and it won't help anything.  Besides, you'll only hate yourself later."    
  
He could feel his lip curl at her, almost of it's own volition.   
  
"Doll, if I could hate myself more right now, it would be a fucking miracle."    
  
He wasn't sure what it was that made the Captain look at him like that.  It could have been the way he said it, because while the words had rolled off his tongue with a practised ease, they were completely unfamiliar.  The Captain put a hand on her shoulder and his eyes lit up with something that looked a lot like hope.    
  
He wasn't sure if he happy with that or not.    
  
She lowered her arms and took a step forward, he felt the need to step away from her and her genuine earnestness.   
  
"You might hate yourself as the Winter Soldier right now, but that'll be nothing compared to what you feel when you find who you really are."    
  
He scofffed.  
  
"This supposed James Barnes, who fought alongside the great Captain America seventy years ago?  I'll tell you something dollface, that man died falling off a train in Europe.  He doesn't exist anymore."    
  
"Yes he does.  He's there in your words, in your actions.  He's why the Winter Soldier hates himself.  He's there, he just needs time to wake up."    
  
He felt himself snarl.    
  
"You don't know anything about me, girl.  Why are you even here?"    
  
She didn't flinch, not even when he got in her face and all but shouted at her.    
  
"I'm here because Steve Rogers has always needed someone to have his back.  James Barnes isn't able to do that for him right now, so I will.  For as long as I have to, and longer.  He's not going to give up on you, so I'm not giving up on him."  
  
He blinked.  A woman with a spine of steel.  A word floated through his consciousness; gumption.  Steve Rogers liked gals with gumption.  And something else...  
  
"You do have a thing for brunettes, don't you punk?"   
  
Pain sliced through his head and his vision blurred.  Hands grasped at him, eased him into a chair, and he might have batted them away, except that they were too achingly familiar.    
  
They left the room when a medic came in.   
  
* * *   
  
When his vision came back, he saw them through the window, arguing.  She was leaning against the wall opposite, her arms crossed under her chest, while the Captain paced up and down in front of her, arms and hands waving as he spoke.  She looked unimpressed, even bored, like this was something they went through often.  Maybe they did.  She seemed like the type that didn't follow orders readily.    
  
Eventually though, she caught his wrist, pulled him to a standstill beside her and she half turned into his side.  Whatever she said, it must have been what he'd needed to hear, because he relaxed next to her and dipped his head to rest his forehead against hers.    
  
It was what he did next that shook him right to a core he didn't think still existed.  
  
Captain America reached out his other hand and brushed it against her lower abdomen, pressing ever so slightly through her loose fitting top, just enough that the barest hint of roundness was visible.   
  
She was pregnant.  
  
* * *  
  
"You asked for me?"   The woman, her name had been Natalia, when he'd known her inside and out.  Now, her name was Natasha, and she had moved on, become something more than the Black Widow.    
  
Part of him hated her for it.  But there was a part of him that knew that she deserved it. She had earned it in a way that he wasn't sure he ever could.   
  
"That girl.  His girl.  What's her name?"   
  
"Why do you need to know that?"   
  
"I just do, Natalia.  It's...it's important."  
  
She blinked at him.   
  
"Her name is Darcy Lewis."   
  
"How long have they been together?"    
  
"Well over a year.  They were stealthy about it, no one knew until recently."    
  
"Even you?"   
  
"Even me."   
  
"Nothing used to get by you, Natalia."  
  
"Well, apparently now some things do."  

"She's pregnant."  

  
"Yes, she is."   
  
"How far along is she?"   
  
"Why do you need to know this?"   
  
"I just...I just do."    
  
Her measured look was back, but she seemed to be considering him.    
  
"About four months."    
  
"That's still early.  Things could still go wrong.  Why would she risk that?  Why would she put herself, her child, in harms way like that?  I could have...I mean...I might have..."    
  
He clenched the fingers of his metal hand against the table at the thought of what could have happened, if he wasn't in the middle of some kind of de-programming.  De-programming that seemed to be actually working, despite what he though.  The table groaned under the strain.    
  
She reached across the table and hesitantly folded a strong hand over his real one.    
  
"But you didn't.  She came in here believing that.  Believe me, Steve has already given her the lecture.  But she loves him, she believes in him, and he believes in you.  As long as he believes in you, so will she.  And I think he'd believe in you forever if he could."    
  
"They shouldn't.  There isn't anything left of me to deserve that kind of belief."   
  
Natalia...no, Natasha, smiled at him. It was the kind of smile that he had only seen her use once before, a very long time ago.    
  
"If that were true, then we wouldn't be having this conversation."    
  
* * *   
  
Captain America paced outside the door while Darcy Lewis came into the room carrying a box of something that smelled delicious and sat down opposite him.    
  
"I was kinda surprised when they said you wanted to talk to me."    
  
She was smiling at him and she flipped open the box.    
  
"Help yourself, I made them this morning.  But, better do it before I eat the whole box.  You may have noticed I'm a bit pregnant.  I'm hungry, like, all the time."    
  
His lips twitched.  She was funny too, when she wasn't all fired up.    
  
"I did notice.  Kinda stupid, breaking up a fight when you're pregnant."    
  
"Maybe a little.  Steve read me the riot act, I'll have you know.  Again.  He tends to do that a lot.  Some of it is valid, I do have kind of a thing for thrilling heroics every once in a while.  The rest of it is him is being a first time dad who just wants me and baby to be safe, so I let him do it, it makes him feel better.  Do me a favour though and don't try to beat him up again?"    
  
She pulled some kind of sticky bun out of the box and stuffed one end of it in her mouth.  It was impressive.    
  
"That's charming."    
  
She shrugged.   
  
"I never pretended to be any kind of mild mannered lady.  Or a lady of any kind, really."    
  
"Part of why Captain America fell in love with you?"   
  
To his surprise, she shook her head.    
  
"Captain America can go fuck himself.  Steve Rogers is in love with me."    
  
"Last I checked, they were the same person."    
  
Her smile was conspiratory, like what she was about to say was some big secret.    
  
"They're not though.  Captain America is this big, tall, larger than life guy who is the idol of millions of good little Americans.  Steve Rogers is a kid from Brooklyn who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut."  
  
She grinned wickedly, and ate another huge bite of her bun.   
  
"And, he's got a pretty filthy mouth too."    
  
"Oh yeah?"    
  
"Yeah, seems he had this friend, taught him a thing or two about talking dirty to the dames."    
  
She winked at him and he felt...something just...let go.  He felt more at ease, more himself than he had in a long time.   
  
He reached into the box and pulled out a bun for himself, icing and connamon oozing onto his fingers.  It tasted as good as it looked.  Like something from a long time ago, when things were...if not good, then better at least.    
  
"Cinnamon buns?"   He asked, and she laughed.    
  
"Dude, consider yourself lucky, I have been having the weirdest cravings, this is at least edible for the general populace.  Steve eats just about everything, but a deep fried dill pickle with peanut butter ice cream makes him reconsider sitting next to me at the table."    
  
He found himself smiling.    
  
"And you made these?"    
  
"Yep.  Steve doesn't like storebought crap.  Which is fine, because I like to get my Martha Stewart on in the kitchen."    
  
"I can see why he likes you then, he was always a sucker for sweets."   
  
He blinked, and when the flash of pain that he was expecting didn't come, he looked up at her, and the gentle smile on her face told him more that words could.    
  
"He still is.  Cookies don't ever last more than a day in the house."    
  
"And now he's got that souped up metabolism."   
  
"Oh yes.  You don't want to see our grocery bill, we're lucky we both have healthy salaries."    
  
"You two married?"   
  
She shook her head.    
  
"Not yet.  Steve asked before we found out about junior here."  She flashed her left hand so he could see the pretty ring on her finger.  The Steve that he'd known had always had good taste.  Apparently he still did.      
  
"Why are you waiting?"   
  
She shrugged and reached for another bun.   
  
"Two reasons:  One, I refuse to walk down the aisle looked like a beached beluga whale.  Two...well, our wedding party is missing a best man."   
  
She was looking at him pointedly, her inference pretty clear.  It both unsettled him and sent a warmth to his heart that he hadn't felt in...he couldn't even remember when.    
  
"I dunno if I'll be in any shape to do that for you, doll.  You could be waiting a long time."    
  
She shrugged again and stood, pushing the box toward him.   
  
"I'll wait as long as I have to, because whether you believe it or not, you're closer every day.  And Steve is going to be waiting for Bucky Barnes on the other side." 

"But what about you?"  

"The only thing I want out of our wedding is for us to be happy.  He won't be happy without you there.  So, we'll wait.  Because you're going to be there, James Barnes.  Count on it."  

He smiled at her. 

"Alright, you've got yourself a deal, sweetheart.  Just remember that the metal arm doesn't do so well in a tuxedo."

She left the room laughing.    


End file.
